


Roaring Red and Growling Green - Season 3 One Shots

by SuperSillyAndDorky06



Series: The Al Sah-Him Collection [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Al Sah-him, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Beyond Season 3 Too, F/M, Ficlet Phase, Fluff, Gen, I Blame Tumblr, Just Some Crazy, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Season 3, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 15,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperSillyAndDorky06/pseuds/SuperSillyAndDorky06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a collection of crazy ficlets and prompts on Tumblr. A lot based in Nanda Parbat. A lot set in Season 3. A lot of smutty smut. Just some crazy ficlets.<br/>With multi parts ficlets:<br/>Al Sah-Him Meets Felicity Smoak Part 1 & 2<br/>Al Sah-Him To Kill Felicity Smoak Part 1 & 2</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. CONTENTS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an organized contents page because I'm crazy like that.

###  [Chapter 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8283265): Ra's Al Ghul Vs. Felicity Smoak

###  [Chapter 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8283340): The Rage In His Veins

###  [Chapter 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8283361): The Branding

###  [Chapter 5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8283391): Her Hands

###  [Chapter 6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8283448): Don't Ask Me To Say

###  [Chapter 7](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8289157): An Ode to His Mind

###  [Chapter 8](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8289187): Broken Nails and Vacant Alleys

###  [Chapter 9](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8325694): Eye To Eye

###  [Chapter 10](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8410933): Al-Saheem Meets Felicity Smoak - Part 1

###  [Chapter 11](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8436019): Al-Saheem Meets Felicity Smoak - Part 2

###  [Chapter 12](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8463694): Dirty Talks and Prying Eyes

###  [Chapter 13](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8484061): Encore With Al Sah-Him

###  [Chapter 14](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8582950): Al Sah-Him To Kill Felicity Smoak- Part 1

###  [Chapter 15](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8596762): A Conversation Between Two Assassins (Post- 3x21)

###  [Chapter 16](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8609635): Ten Steps (Pre-3x22)

###  [Chapter 17](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8618851): Al Sah-Him To Kill Felicity Smoak- Part 2

###  [Chapter 18](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8635423): ‘I’ll Be Watching You’ (3x21 Aftermath)

###  [Chapter 19](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8646340): In An Alcove (Pre-3x22)

###  [Chapter 20](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736885/chapters/8754454): Gone - (3x22 Aftermath)


	2. CONTENTS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _taurusclh asked : “Can I get your take on. Felicity/Ra’s confrontation. You write her so well.”_

He knew the boy had it in him to achieve greatness. He knew that the boy had the sheer force of will that exceeded even his at that fragile age. He knew that the boy had devotion to his cause that was truly impressive and a desire to succeed that ran through his veins. Ra’s al Ghul knew that the man who was Oliver Queen, now Al-Saheem, was the right fit to sit on his throne, to take over the League, to become the next him.

He had made it a point to know all of the boy’s weaknesses, all of the human bonds that made him weak, all of the people he surrounded himself with that could be turned on him with persuasion. Power was a heady thing. And Ra’s al Ghul had immensely enjoyed his. He thought he knew everything there was about Oliver Queen.

Standing in front of the branding alter, he realized he was wrong. He had not known Felicity Smoak. Oh, he had known about her, but he had not known her at all, had ignored the depth of affection Al-Saheem had for her, even after his transformation.

She amused him, and then she annoyed him. She dared stand in front of him, the leader of the League of Assassins, and stop Oliver Queen from his transformation with one word, undoing all his efforts of months, making them crumble in the blink of an eye.

Little as she was, he was sure he could kill her before  _her_  one blink, but he could not, for then he would never have the boy. These two were linked in a way he failed to grasp. And it angered him. 

She turned her hateful eyes on him, no fear marring her little face, and he found himself admiring her tenacity. “Oliver will not kill for you. I won’t let you ruin everything he has fought for.”

He considered her quietly, in a manner that put fear in the best of men. She just stared back, equally. “He is no longer Oliver Queen, child. He is Al-Saheem. And he will obey me.”

She stepped forward like he should be afraid of it. “No he will not. Whatever mask you may give him, the man inside is still there. And he will live as long as I have a breath in my body.”

“Maybe you should not have it much longer,” he suggested, silently aggravated by her belief.  


She smiled, and he could see the darkness in her, just barely glancing across the surface. “You kill me, and everything about the League will become known to the world. You kill me and your precious little group dies. You kill me, and nothing will stop Oliver from killing  _you_.”

The certainty in her voice was astounding. His anger even more so. “You would not dare, little girl.”

“You really want to try, Demon?”  


He pursed his mouth, enraged. “What do you want, Ms. Smoak?”

She smirked, the triumphant. “I want you to release Oliver and never come after anyone related to him again. Find yourself another little heir. You come after any of us again and I’ll make sure on my promise. The League won’t remain a ghost anymore. You touch any of us, ever, and the fail-safe I have will let out every little secret of yours out in the world. I doubt you learned anything about computers in the million years you have lived. So I even get a  _hint_ of your presence _, y_ our secrecy that you pride yourself on will be gone.”

He remained silent. The door opened and the boy entered, his eyes flashing upon seeing the girl with him, but coming forward like the assassin he was now. The boy had touched darkness, then bathed in it. The boy was a killer by instinct. The girl did not know this. Ra’s smiled, knowing the boy would make the choice of living with his demons when he demanded it.

But one word from her, and months of his efforts crumbled into dust right before his eyes. One word from her and he saw Al-Saheem vanish into vapour. One word from her, and he knew the boy’s allegiance had never been his in the first place.

“ _Oliver?_ ”  


One word from her, and everything Ra’s had worked to build disintegrated.

And then he knew only one thing. He had underestimated Felicity Smoak.


	3. The Rage In His Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's thoughts during the team-up teased in 3x19 with Ray Palmer. Felicity in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a line with your thoughts :)

It coursed through his veins like wildfire. His hands clenched as he inhaled, cursing Palmer for involving her in this, cursing her for being so stubborn and going there, cursing himself because he could do nothing to get her away and out.

He heard her scream and saw the hand tightening on her throat. He saw  _red_.

The metal suit reached the man and with a roar he let go, punched the air as hard as he could and heard the grunt in reaction from the dirtbag who had touched her, harmed her. But he didn’t stop. He could feel Palmer wanting to, trying to take control of his suit, but he was too far gone, remembering that hand choking her, trying to take the life from her, her from him. He would not let that happen.

So, he punched and punched and punched till his shoulders ached but he didn’t stop. The man lay unconscious, out for the count but he didn’t stop. All the rage of the past weeks flew into the air as he punched and hit and let out everything he felt the best way he knew- violence.

The man was on his last breath but he did not relent. That man’s face became Maseo’s as he took aim at her, became Ra’s’ as he dared speak of her, became the Slade’s as he pronounced her name like he did in mockery, became the Count’s as he held a syringe full of lethal Vertigo to her neck, became everyone who had tried to take her from his life.

His Felicity.

He pulled back his arm, going for the hit he knew would put the man’s life on a string and make him who he wasn’t anymore, what Ra’s and Malcolm wanted him to be. He pulled back his arm and…

“Oliver!”

He stopped. Her voice. Her frantic voice calling him, pulling him, back from the edge of his madness, back into the light, back to her.

Despite the barrier of Palmer’s suit, she knew. She always did.

And just like that, he listened. Like he always did. Only to her. For her.

It still coursed through his veins like a wildfire. But now, it was something else. It was for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : _supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com_  
>  TWITTER : _@dorky06_


	4. The Branding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity takes the LOA brand for Oliver while he watches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me your thoughts :)

 

He had always wanted her to be his. To be claimed by the animal inside him. To be the one to tame his monster and slay his demons. He had wanted to brand her. But never like this. Not like this.

His arms strained with the effort to stay still, while he fought the battle to let go. His nerves shook and his mind quaked. He should never have let her come, never have taken the risk to expose her to the League. 

But she had been so stubborn like she always was. So adamant. So immovable. 

And so she sat before him, her nails digging into his arm even before the metal reached her skin. He saw her mouth tremble, her throat work, and he hated himself some more for it. His existence was a curse for her. His dark abyss a threat to her heights. 

He was a mere shadow, who fell in love with the light, and banished, hid behind everything she touched. 

Her hiss pierced his heart, shattering it more than a silver blade could. The mark glowed an angry red, not her red, but ugly, mottled, twisted, bruised, upon her skin. Him upon her skin. His mark upon her skin.

“It’s not your fault.”

Her gentleness was the last thing his brutal self deserved. Her love a mightier weapon than Ra’s’ sword. And something shifted, deep inside him. He understood. 

Though she might have been branded by his mark, it would always be he who would be hers. Every facet of him. Every name. Linked by one woman, loved by one woman, loving one woman.

Felicity Smoak. He was hers.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : _supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com_  
>  TWITTER : _@dorky06_


	5. Her Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her hands through his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a line :)

 

Her laugh rang out from the room. He halted, waiting, breathing, devouring the sound. Her laugh was rare. Her smiles were not. Despite the tragedy he had turned her life into, she bestowed him with that same smile she always had, blinked at him the same way she did when he wore green instead of black, touched him with the same healing intensity.

He had noticed her hands when she moved them, talking to him like he deserved her words, the life inside them calling to something deep inside him. He had ignored it. Her hands, which aided him in his mission, had also animated his bleak existence.

Her touch had changed over the years. At first it had been a hesitant brush of the hand, becoming surer when it wasn’t rebuffed. How could it ever be? Her touch had started anchoring him, becoming the small sip of elixir he craved, making him alive.

It had moved into a surety, patching his external wounds, healing his insides, although he doubted she knew that. The certainty had then transformed into flirtation, her hand teasing his skin, getting under his skin. And then, they withdrew. He had rebuffed them, made her unsure. He had pulled away. he had pushed away. Her hands had never strayed from farther than he could touch.

But the collision had come. And after conversing with skins, now, her touch was just his.

He opened the door. She looked up, smiling, the glint in her eyes his reason for existence, the color on her cheeks reaffirmation of life. She came and linked their hands, linking her to him like she always did in bed, anchoring him from his own mind. She was the only light in this dark stone cave, in his dark stone castle, in his dark stone heart.

And with that simple touch, she reminded him, like she always did. His masks had changed, her hands had not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : _supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com_  
>  TWITTER : _@dorky06_


	6. Don't Ask Me To Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _scu11y22 said:Felicity to Oliver: Don’t ask me to say that I don’t love you._
> 
> Check it out. Drop me a line :)

A battle was waging inside him. A part of him knew there was no other way. She had to go. But the other part knew he needed her to stay, to keep him from drowning, from losing himself in the abyss that beckoned him.

They stood on the tarmac, the silence between them anything but. They had always communicated best with their eyes. Their touches, their words, just a reaffirmation of their thoughts. Today, there were no touches. No words. Not yet.

He gazed into her bright blue orbs, shimmering in tears he was responsible for, still gazing at him with an emotion he did not deserve. He probably never would. That emotion had to go, along with her. He wanted it to stay, along with her.

The wind swept at her soft hair, the glasses he had removed so gently last night back on her pert nose, the lips he had worshiped trembling with unsaid words, the skin he had devoured flushed with that same, tantalizing pink. 

If he could have had it his way, they would have never left his chambers, his bed. One night had been too little for them, the glimpse of the only heaven he had known just that- a glimpse. He had so many things he wanted to do to her, so many sounds he wanted to elicit, so many fevers he wanted to ignite, so many curves he wanted to explore. And he had so many regrets.

He didn’t know if they would ever stand like this again. He didn’t know if they would ever look like this again. But he couldn’t dangle any maybes. He couldn’t live with the maybes. Not from her.

He raised his hand to her face, savoring the feel of her soft, soft skin, making it a memory for when his demons would clamor inside him for release. He inhaled deeply, locking her sweet, fruity scent that had always surrounded her, making it an anchor for when his own mind would threaten his spirit.  The gift she had given him last night was a memory too, caged in the safest corner of his heart, along with everything about her- from her red pen to her soft moans.

And then he spoke, like the greedy bastard he was, shattering everything, like he always did, breaking her heart, like he always did.  

“Felicity.” One word. That was all he had ever needed to tell her everything. 

“Oliver.” All that he had needed too.

He saw Diggle waiting near the jet for her. It was time.

He tried the semblance of a smile when everything was dragging his lips down, his heart weeping like he had never felt it weep. “Don’t go.” 

He had planned to say something else, the words escaping him from somewhere deep, deep inside, where only she had ever reached.

“You know I can’t stay Oliver. You have to choose what you want.” Her voice, trembling like her mouth, pierced his heart, shattering it too.

But he needed her.  _He needed her_.

“Please.”

She remained mute, her eyes beseeching him to stop dangling those damned maybes for her. Didn’t she know it was he hanging by a thread? A thread that would leave him falling into his caverns of darkness? 

“Then tell me the truth, for once, Felicity. Tell me so I can make that choice.”

Silence. His heart bled at her silence. He needed her to say it. He needed to hear it. He needed her to push him to make that choice. But she remained mute like she never did. He gripped her face, shaking her in his panic. 

“God damn it, Felicity! If it is so hard, just tell me you don’t…” 

Before he could finish his words, she was on her toes, cradling his face in her hands, so unlike the way he clung to hers, brushing his lips in the softest, sweetest of kisses that brought tears to his eyes. She just held her lips still against his, sharing his breath, reminding him of that hospital lobby ages ago. 

And then, she pulled back, the tears running from her eyes but her whisper strong against his mouth, “ _Don’t ask me to say that I don’t love you_.” 

His eyes closed, his own tear leaking, his body suddenly getting his first breath of oxygen in longer than he could remember, the tightness in his chest finally loosening. His heart was thundering, her words echoing with every rapid beat, tattooing them on itself. He remembered when he had told her the same. He remembered her promise to not wait. 

This time, he knew she would. He knew it in his bones.

She pecked his lips once more before walking away like the last time she had, and he stood with his hands, empty of her like the last time he had. But he felt lighter than the last time.

Because she always made him have epiphanies. And he realized, there had never really been any choice to make. 

He was going home to her. Very, very soon. 

She made him win yet another battle with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com  
> TWITTER : @dorky06


	7. An Ode to His Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked : I know you write beautiful poetry. So post 10-12 lines on Oliver Queen, from when he sits alone in the dark._

Banished, condemned,

He still sits alone,

Swallowed by the darkness

He has made his own.

Caged, imprisoned,

He fathoms of open skies,

Where flying is a dream

Impossible even in the night.

Bruised, mottled,

He weeps a song aloud,

With none around to hear,

The silence cloaking his sounds.

Broken, bleeding,

He holds on to faith, alive,

He feels her hands, her breath, her hope,

He holds on for those blue eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com  
> TWITTER : @dorky06


	8. Broken Nails and Vacant Alleys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _dust2dust34 said: Prompt! “Oliver. You broke my nail.”_

“Damn it, Oliver! You broke my nail!” 

Felicity’s hushed whisper reached him just as he pushed into her wet heat and her hands grasped for his shoulders. He shook his head, a smile threatening his mouth and hitched her higher against the alley wall, her ass filling his palms. Her glorious, glorious ass that he had spent countless nights mapping, with his hands, his mouth, his eyes. He had not known he was such an ass kind of guy till he had hers in his bed, and fuck, he got harder than he already was inside her.

“You were the one strangling the life out of my bow, Felicity,” he whispered back, flexing his hips and eliciting a groan from her. “How the hell is it my fault that you broke it?”

Her head was thrown back now, the long line of her neck at level with his eyes. Unable to resist, he leaned forward and bit at the pulse. He loud moan filled the vacant alley, making his body shiver, making his desire spike a hundred times more. He still marveled at the fact that despite of being with him for so long now, knowing him like she did, she still had zero idea of what her natural reactions did to him- how her sounds made him want to crawl into her and never leave, how her rushed breaths made his heart swell with an aching tenderness he had never felt for another, how the sound of his name on her lips turned him into the most primitive of beasts.

He stopped moving, holding still, keeping her poised on that precipice and himself inside her wet, welcoming heat. She felt him halt and glared at him from those lustful, blue eyes, from behind her glasses. “Your bow is an extension of you and I was gripping it so hard because you could not control the urge to fuck me in a random alley.”

He bristled at that. “I hadn’t seen you for a week!”

“Then fuck me, you giant idiot!”

He felt a bubble of laughter erupt inside him at her desperation and hid his face in her throat to hide that from her. Apparently, he did not successfully. Because the next thing he felt almost made him drop to his knees with heady sensation.

Felicity, the tiny spitfire that she was, suddenly clamped her walls around him, squeezing the life out of his erection, clenching and unclenching her muscles, milking his cock for all it was worth. The tingling started at the base of his spine, indicating his early demise if she continued. 

He pushed her harder into the wall and she smirked, unrelenting in her wet heat. 

“You need to stop right now if you want me to last,” he growled, just wanting to let go inside her.

“And you need to fuck me like you promised you would if you want to last,” her soft, seductive voice came from just beside his ear. 

“I can’t believe I married such a vixen,” he muttered, bringing one hand to cup her breast, pulling on her nipple. 

“And I can’t believe I married such a tease,” she ground out, her eyes rolled back in her head. “You want me to talk dirty to you, baby?”

He grit his teeth at her teasing voice and with a roar, pulled out of her almost completely before slamming inside her so hard her jaw trembled. Before she could completely recover, he was back out and slamming home again. Her walls were shaking completely around him now, weeping for a release only he could provide. 

She was panting now, incoherent sounds coming out of her mouth that aroused him more than he could have believed. He kept pistoning his hips into hers, with swift hard strokes, over and over and over again and then she was exploding in his arms, biting into his leather-clad shoulder to muffle her screams and that wild bite of her mouth on his flesh unhinged him, his movements becoming erratic as he filled her and she came again, her entire body vibrating in his arms in the aftermath, his power thrusts slowing and gradually stopping. 

Slowly, their bodies calmed down, his heart slowing and he pulled his face back, still inside her, and surprisingly, still hard. Well, that’s what a week of blue balls did to him apparently. 

She touched her forehead to his, breathing in his scent. “Welcome home.”

His heart clenched at her whispered words, the value of those words making him speechless. For so long he had not had a home. For so long he had just been lost, a nomad moving from purpose to purpose. And then she found him and she became it. She became the reason to fight, the reason to return every night, the reason to smile on the worst of days, the reason to become human again. She became his reason. She became his home.  

He brushed her nose with his, reveling in the feel of her body, her presence. A week was too fucking long.

“I bet you.” The smirk in her voice made him open his eyes and consider her. Her playful smile was still glazed with lust. His cock twitched harder in her.

“Bet me what?” his voice was hoarse, his leather suit still all around him.

“You can’t make me break any other nail, Mr. Queen.”

Raising his eyebrows, he rotated his hips, watching in fascination as she bit her lips hard. Feeling lighter than he could have, he grinned back, knowing he was going to  _exhaust_  her into just chipping it at least, so it wouldn’t hurt. Oh, this would be fun. 

“I accept, Mrs. Queen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com  
> TWITTER : @dorky06


	9. Eye To Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked : How about some intense eye-sex that arouses the hell out of them at some social thing in Nanda Parbat? Like he can’t wait to get her alone, and she is so turned on but only the anticipation and not actual smut? Do your magic. :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a line with your thoughts :)

He knew. So, he watched her, like he always did. Watched the way her hands moved as she addressed someone, watched the way her eyes lit up as she used her face to emphasize a point, watched the way her luscious lips wrapped around the lucky words as she went on about something or the other.

She did not believe him when he told her but she was almost as physical a being as him, living as much with her senses as he did, loving as much with her senses as he did. She was very physical. He knew.

He watched as the gauzy white gown fluttered around her, caressing her skin like he wanted to, wrapping and turning around her like he itched to do. She was drawing not only his eyes with her beauty, but his were the only ones who knew how far the color on her skin went, how warm that flush felt against his own body, how wet the deepest of reds made her. 

He knew. So, he watched.

The feast before him sat neglected, residents of Nanda Parbat mulling about, their voices becoming white noise as his eyes remained glued to her, mapping every curve he knew better than the back of his hand with his eyes, tracing every nook and cranny as it played hide and seek in the firelight. He just watched, his pulse beating in his ears, knowing how this night would end, knowing of how he was going to make her writhe. That knowledge made him smile. That knowledge made him watch.

She turned her head to look right back at him, letting him know that she was aware of his voyeuristic eyes. Of course she was. When it came to them, she was an exhibitionist like he hadn’t thought possible, loving to give him a good show. 

Holding his gaze from across the room, she raised her eyebrows before getting that mischievous smile on her face, the one that heated his blood like nothing else, the one that hardened his cock and made him squirm in his seat. Just a damn smile and he was done. 

Keeping her eyes on his, she bit on her lip, peeking her tongue out to wet it before retreating it. His jaw clenched. Keeping her eyes on his, she craned her neck to the side, exposing the long line of her throat in the fire to his lustful gaze. His hands clenched.

Someone interrupted her actions, and she diverted her attention back to the lady, except she did not completely. He watched her pick up a goblet of wine and take a sip, purposely letting a red drop, so like blood, dribble down her chin and splosh on her chest. Another drop tried to follow and she caught it with her tongue, touching the rim of her glass with it, eyes locked with his. Lucky wine.

He was sure he was going to combust on the spot. When they had collided together for the first time, he had realized that there had been mysteries about her he had not known. One of them being this. She enjoyed the pleasures of the body almost as much as he did, she enjoyed the game, the chase, the teasing, the torture of the best kind. She enjoyed his unstoppable reactions to her actions. She was a vixen. She was wanton. And only he knew. Only him.

That knowledge made him calm his blood down, allow the roar to be suppressed only for a little while longer. She continued with her slow, slow torture, letting her fingers trace the curve of the goblet like she was tracing his scars, kissing the rim like it was his skin, licking the wine like it was off his flesh. 

Her lips were fuller, redder than they had been, her eyes more glazed in her own heat that only he could quench. Oh yes. He was going to quench it very, very well tonight. He was going to make her thighs shake around him. He was going to invade that pert little mouth. He was going to make her tremble as she reached that inferno over and over again. He was going to make her scream his name till her voice was hoarse. He was going to make her come with his mouth, his fingers, his cock, so much that she would collapse by morning, knowing nothing but him. 

He was going to exhaust her for this. And she was going to beg him to stop, beg him to not.

He was going to have his sweet revenge for this. And she was going to hate it, love it.

He knew. So he smiled. So he watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com  
> TWITTER : @dorky06


	10. Al-Saheem Meets Felicity Smoak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous said: What do you think would happen if Al Sahim met Felicity Smoak?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I didn’t know if this was a prompt or a question, lol, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. So, here it is, wayyyyy more melodramatic than I thought possible. Hope it didn’t disappoint.

 

 

He stayed hidden in the dark like the shadow he was now, just a faceless ghost who left nothing behind but a name. A name that was an echo from a different life, a name that was a reminder of who he used to be but was not anymore. Al-Saheem. The Arrow. 

It had been ages and it had been yesterday. He had stopped thinking about it now, shut the lid on those box of memories tight and thrown away the key somewhere he could never find it. He had ceased to be a man. He was just a symbol. Just a shadow. Just a ghost.

A noise alerted him to someone’s presence on the roof, and he retreated farther into the corner, waiting for whoever it was to leave so he could get down to business, in a city that was nothing but another target for him, a city that was also the echo of a different life. 

He watched her walk across the roof to the rail, gulping in breaths of air, her chest heaving with every inhale, her sun-spun hair in a ponytail, her glasses perched on her nose, her mouth blood red. 

Her color was threatening to fill the void in him. Her glow was threatening his shadows. And he knew how Sarab must have felt that night long ago on top of a mountain. 

He felt detached, like watching something on a film, removed from the character, removed from that embodiment of his past. He was removed and he had someone to kill. Turning to leave, he took silent steps towards the edge of the building, deciding to wait somewhere else when a gasp stopped him.

He looked around to see her eyes latched onto his retreating figure, clad all in black with nothing but the eyes visible. He saw the recognition strike her face, as she took two steps forward. But that recognition was wrong. He was not that man anymore.

“It’s you,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with emotions that were dead to him. He didn’t speak, just stared back with dead eyes, like his dead heart.

“Oliver?” 

He didn’t even blink. The name meant nothing to him. The name was nothing to him. Nothing except another casualty.

Turning around to leave again, he halted at her loud, angry voice, the one that used to amuse the other him once upon a time. He did not even twitch at it.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

He neutrally looked back at her, waiting for her to finish whatever so he would go. He perhaps, didn’t realize, that nothing was forcing him to stay.

“Come home, Oliver.”

Had he still had a heart, it would perhaps have been moved by the way her voice quivered, the way her eyes widened pleadingly at him. But his heart was locked away in that box he had shoved away.

“I am Al-Saheem,” he clarified, firmly.

“Al-Saheem, my ass!”

He felt the first twinge of surprise at her vehemence. 

“You wanted to stick around and play with the new group, you did. Now it’s time you came home because I am sick of missing you and I am done stalking you while you ninja your way around the world!”

Her entire being was lit up with a fire that was seeping heat into his bones, very, very slowly. This warmth was dangerous to him. He was dangerous to her. 

He took one step away and her voice reached him once more. “Oliver!”

“Oliver does not exist anymore,” he firmly pushed back. “All that is here is Al-Saheem.”

A distant part of him recognized that look in her eyes, that look which held challenge and honesty all in one. She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head at him.

“If that is true, then Al-Saheem would not give a shit if I jump off this building, would he?” 

Something close to his lungs tightened in his chest at the words, his hands clenching into fists beside him. The wait for his response was obvious in her face, her eyes going from hopeful to disappointed to determined in a blink.

With a resolute nod to herself, she took a step back, towards the railing, eyes on him. His jaw clenched.

She took another step back. His knees shook with the effort to hold still, to keep himself in place.

Another step back. His forefinger and thumb started rubbing furiously, his gut churning.

Another step back. His breathing was erratic now. 

She was so close to the rails now that she would plunge to her death if she even tripped. And in that one second, when her foot lifted to take that final step, tears dripping down her cheeks, her entire body shaking, her eyes still waiting for him to react, in that one second he realized he already did.

He was already reacting when he shouldn’t, still able to read so clearly in her what he did not in himself, still anchored to her so much that he couldn’t leave, still seeking her light like the banished moth that he was. He had locked away a box and thrown away what he thought had been the key. It wasn’t. She was. She was the key.

She recognized him when he refused to recognize himself, she saw in his eyes what he could not see in the mirror anymore, she still believed in him when there was nothing to believe in.

Her foot got closer to the rail and his dormant, not dead heart screamed with a vengeance to stop her, to drag her back from the edge just like she always did with him. Al-Saheem or not, whoever he was had no existence without her. She had to live. She had to breathe. 

With one final breath, he let go on the identity he had been clinging to so tightly, he let go with one errant tear, he let go with only one prayer on his lips.

 _“Felicity.”_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	11. Al-Saheem Meets Felicity Smoak - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous said: What do you think would happen if Al Sahim met Felicity Smoak? (Cont. of Al-Saheem Meets Felicity Smoak)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, thanks to the anon who gave me this brilliant idea and you, readers, for making me realize that the story wasn’t finished perhaps. So, here is a continuation of the previous one just as melodramatic. Hope it doesn’t disappoint.

_“Felicity.”_

He saw her feet stop, lifted mid-air in the backward motion. He saw her eyes scrutinize his, gauging his sincerity, listening to everything unspoken like she always had done, always had known what he had wanted to say before he had said it, and after a second, a tremulous smile lifted her lips, the radiance on her face blinding him, and so, so beautiful his breath hitched, the weight on his chest evaporating under her luminous blue eyes. He was so greedy for that luminosity, so needy of her faith. 

He took a few steps forward, already having given up on Al-Saheem. He was nothing but an illusion. As was The Arrow. As was Oliver Queen. 

The only reality was she, and he was now defined by her. Defined by the way she tethered him in a world of illusions. In midst of smoke and mirrors, she was his reflection, clear, steady, strong. And he was so, so tired of denying himself this, denying her this. Their need for each other was more than a fever in their bloods, more than the desire in their veins, more than the heat in their muscles. No. They were past that. It was more. She was more. Always had been more. 

She exhaled loudly, her happy manner making his lips lift of their own accord like only she could, and put her foot on the ground, twisting her ankle in her haste, teetering on her heels, and in that split second, his world was plunged back into darkness.

That split second, where her wide, frightened eyes sought his before her body, imbalanced, fell backwards, over the railing she had been too damn close to. In that split second, he knew he had waited too long to surrender to her. In that split second, a guttural scream left his throat, one he did not recognize in himself. In that split second, his worst nightmare became his brutal reality as he watched his life plummet into the darkness that was him. In that split second, he understood the true meaning of being a ghost, knew that he was nothing without her, no one without her. And in that split second, with every moment, every touch, every feel, every sound, everything that was alive only with her flashing before his eyes, he knew what he had to do. 

She was going to live, as animated as she always was, or he was going to crash right down with her. He was going to save her, like she always saved him, in ways she did not even recognize. He was going to worship her, love her, in ways he never had before. 

He jumped.

Letting his training kick in, he extended the black cloth he carried with him, aiming it at the railing and hooking it around it, and looked down at where she rapidly fell, just a little below him, her eyes clenched shut. Nosediving straight to her, ignoring the whoosh of air pounding his eardrums, ignoring the battering ram his awakened heart had become, ignoring everything but her, he felt the distance between them closing, the distance between her and the ground closing. 

Her mouth open in a silent scream annihilated him. Her eyes shut in pure fear made him even more determined to reach her faster. Finally, almost there, extending his free arm as much as he could, he grabbed her waist and pulled her into him, latching their bodies, their destinies together, watching her eyes open in shocked disbelief, turning big at seeing him there, before she attacked him, wrapping her arms and legs around him, clinging to his solid body, burying her face in his neck, trembling wildly with fear. 

He tightened his arm around her, knowing nothing short of his own death could remove her from his hold now. He wasn’t afraid anymore. He had her, with him, and he knew he would have his feet solidly on the ground in seconds, safe and unharmed, just as she was meant to be. 

Suddenly, his shoulder strained as the cloth jerked, falling short and he looked down, gauging the gap of gravity. They weren’t that far from the alley floor. Cradling her to him, his hand low on her hips, he jumped, hearing her soft screech, crouching mid-air to soften the landing, trying to jar her as little as possible. His feet touched the ground and he let his other arm come around her, just to hold her like he had wanted to for so, so long.

She did not remove her face from his neck, still wrapped around him like vine and he did not mind it one bit. He already felt her shivers setting his sleeping heart in motion, her faith in him lighting up his insides, her small mutters against his skin taming his demons, leashing them back into their cages. 

They stood in that alley like that for ages, just breathing each other in, his heart inspired into movement by hers, beating in sync with hers, before she spoke slowly against his ear. “You pulled a Titanic on me.”

Her soft voice jarred his brooding away, as he frowned in confusion. She shook her head, shivers still wracking her body occasionally. “You jump, I jump. Titanic.”

He allowed himself that small smile, the levity inside him bursting through his chest. His mouth trembled over what could have happened, what had almost happened, and he thanked every star in the sky for this other chance with her.

“Still not the circumstances I imagined,” she muttered and he pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes, savoring every breath of her body he had almost lost. 

She inhaled, preparing to say something else, and he pressed his lips to hers, speaking the one word that was his anchor, the one word that was his god, the one word that was his healer, the one word that was just his, right against her mouth.

_“Felicity.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : _supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com_  
>  TWITTER : _@dorky06_


	12. Dirty Talks and Prying Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> Anonymous asked : So I read this fic the other day about Olicity having exhibitionist sex in NP. I’d like you to write something like that but add your own twist to it. Maybe something about proving Oliver’s masculinity or something. Love your writing. 
> 
> __
> 
> Anonymous asked : Could you write dirty talking Oliver? Like not crude but dirty? Such hotness.
> 
> __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Callistawolf is a gem and she has written a brilliant piece on exhibitionist sex. This is me combining two prompts and twisting it up a little and making it slightly different. This does not have actual intercourse but is smutty. Hope it works for you. Here goes nothing.

He could not believe he was doing this as he brushed his lips against hers, finally. But he could not let go the way he actually wanted because this was all for show. He could feel the numerous eyes upon them from the shadows, watching, waiting. 

And Ollie wouldn’t have bat an eyelash at this. He would have enjoyed making a woman, any woman, come for an audience. But he wasn’t Ollie anymore, and she was not just some random woman. She was  _the_  woman. She was his woman. She was everything. And he would never, ever disrespect her by sharing their very, very private moments with prying eyes, even if he was bound by his word and this was a necessary initiation ritual for him to become the Heir. Their first time together would be on satin sheets and beautiful candlelight and just them. Only his eyes would see her naked skin. Only his eyes would watch her writhe and scream for him. Only his eyes would have the treasure of seeing her passions unleashed. Only him. Not them. Never them.

But this ceremony was a necessary evil, and he did have to make her come. And as understanding as she was, he knew she was not completely comfortable with it. He couldn’t imagine her being. But her trusting eyes, her unending faith in him staggered him yet again and gave him the courage to proceed, her sure touch on his arms telling him that yet again, he was not alone. He never would be with her. 

He grasped her thighs and lifted her to the wooden table before him, in the center of the huge room that looked empty but wasn’t. They wanted to watch, well, they could. But he was going to do this on his terms.

“Trust me?” he asked softly, only for her ears, searching her eyes. 

She looked back at him with complete honesty, and whispered back. “Always.”

Swallowing down the flood of emotions for this beautiful woman, this bright spot in his otherwise dark existence, he brushed her lips again, slowly, softly, nibbling on them like he had wanted to for so, so long. She squirmed a little on the table, spreading her legs and he entered between them, pulling her through the hips to the edge, letting her feel his arousal for her, only for her.

He let his hands roam over her back, his callouses catching on her bright yellow sleeveless dress, her breathing speeding up with just their kiss. Their tongues tangled together and he tasted her mouth, so like he had imagined she would taste like, so like Felicity. 

Pulling back for some air, he pressed his forehead to hers, before littering kisses on her smooth, flushed skin, trailing from the corner of her mouth to her nose to her eyes to her ears, showing her wordlessly everything he wanted to say, cherishing her for the way she had walked up to him in her own determined way, for the way she had literally snarled and bared her claws at Ra’s, for the way she had fought for his soul, as she always had. She probably did not realize that  _she_  had become his soul somewhere between a red pen and a yellow dress. 

He felt her fingers grab his neck, exploring his back like he knew she had dreamed of doing too and he touched the shell of her ear with his tongue, hooking it around her industrial piercing that had tortured his dreams in delicious ways, and pulled. Her sudden reaction fascinated him and he did it again. With every little tug of his tongue, her hips ground into his, only layers of clothing separating them and her back arched, so so erotic that he hardened more than he already was. But this was about her, and eyes were watching. 

Remembering that, he nibbled on her ear and neck, biting and sucking and laving it with his tongue, learning what made her clench her fingers in his hair, or what made her pant in a rush, or what made her almost moan, as he let his scruff rasp against her soft skin too, igniting her right in his arms. He knew she liked his scruff and he was using that to his advantage, a wave of possessiveness washing over him as her skin reddened wherever it rasped.  

“When we are alone,” he whispered in her ear, moving his hands over her curvaceous ass to her waist and her breasts, “I am going to expose every inch of skin on your beautiful body and kiss it.”

She exhaled loudly, her breasts rising and falling rapidly in his hands as he squeezed them in sync, massaging them like he had fantasized for on so many cold, empty nights, alone. He shook off those thoughts, and knew that this was how he had to make her see stars. He was not going to remove her dress and he was not going to let them hear her. No. Those sights and sounds were just for him.  _Only for him._

“When we are alone,” he murmured, pinching her nipples and feeling her head fall back, “I am going to taste everything on your skin. I am going to taste you everywhere. Would you want me to?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, arching her spine to get closer to him. “Yes.”

“I would slowly kiss your neck, and I would leave my mark on you, so that everyone will know you are mine, just mine. Would you like that?” 

“Depends,” she teased softly, biting her lips and closing her eyes. 

“On?”

“On what you do after,” she said, her legs tightening around him. 

“I would put you on the bed and taste these,” he said, squeezing her perfect breasts again, rolling her nipples in between her fingers. “Slowly. I’d play with them with my tongue. I’d lave and lick and bite until you would be so, so wet for me. You want that, Felicity?”

“Yes.” A shiver wracked her body, making him realize that she was turned on. Good. He had to finish this here so he could just take her over to his room and make love to her sweetly and then fuck her like the animal she made me at times. He wanted both with this woman, lord help him. 

“And then I would slowly go down, kissing every place I can, before I hiked your legs over my shoulders.” He let on hand under the hem of her dress, brushing his fingers against her cotton panties which were already damp. She was so wet. His heart stuttered but then he called back on control. Not here, when he could feel them watching the show. 

His fingers dipped inside the cotton, to truly feel her on his skin for the first time and her breath hitched, her eyes locking with his, her knowing eyes arousing him even more. He leaned in and whispered against her mouth, “And after hiking your legs over my shoulders, I would spread you wide open, only to me and run my tongue over your wetness, tasting you for the first time, before burying my mouth in you, making you tremble and writhe under the attack.”

Her breath left her, brushing his mouth, as he palmed her breast with one hand and teased her pussy with the other, without even touching her. She shifted, wanting his fingers to get closer but he held off. “And then I would make you come again and again and again all over my tongue. You would beg me to stop and then I would shift, with your legs still over my shoulders, and bury my hardness right into your wet, wet pussy. You want that, Felicity?”

She nodded vigorously, leaning to capture his mouth but he pulled back slightly, knowing he had to take her to the peak for a little while longer. The fucking League of Shitheads was still upon them like fucking hawks. 

“And I would pound into you so hard, baby. Over and over and over again. I would fuck you so good that you would scream and grind back and moan. And then you would come again and again and again squeezing my cock. You want me to spill myself in you?”

“Yes, I want you to thrust and come and make me die!” she whispered furiously, and his breath hitched at her impassioned eyes. “Now will you fuck me with your fingers already?”

Before she was done, he latched their mouths together, invading her mouth with his tongue the exact moment he invaded her wet heat with his long fingers, inserting two inside her and pumping them in and out and in and out, while rubbing her clit with his thumb and squeezing her breast. She ground on his hand repeatedly, the invading motion of his tongue and fingers in sync getting to her, and shivers started coursing her body with increased frequency. 

He pulled his mouth back and inserted a third finger, just as she mewled and gripped his back with her hands, his shirt fisted in her small hands. 

“Think of all the times you wanted me. Think of all the times you knew I almost gave in and took you. Think of all the ways I am going to ravish you now that I have you. I will never stop. Come for me, Felicity,” he demanded softly. “Come for me so I can fucking take you to the bedroom and make you come again. Come for me so I can tell you how much I love you once you are done.”

Her lust filled eyes blinked open, before she attacked his mouth, her muscles spasming around his pumping fingers and she let go, exploding around his digits like only she could. He swallowed her cries, not wanting to let anyone but him know of their existence, not wanting to share this with anyone else, and furiously worked her over, extending her pleasure for as long as he could. She pulled back and bit his neck, her entire body trembling and shaking around him. She was a fucking supernova, a live wire in his arms and he was a lucky, lucky bastard. 

Mouth trembling, she looked him in the eyes, her fever slowly coming back down as his fingers remained buried in her, coated with her juices, and she smiled, her pure, beautiful, totally Felicity smile, and his heart raced, filling with so much love for her, for everything that she was.

“I didn’t know you talked dirty,” she said, a shyness filling her expression that he found fascinating. 

He grinned despite the situation and pulled his hand back. “It worked.”

She rolled her eyes. “You could have read a phone directory and it would have worked.” 

He watched her blush profusely, and this emotion he could not name but only ever felt with her filled him. He brushed her soft hair back from her face and watched her bite her lip, her eyes slowly heating again. “Can we go to the bedroom now so I can tell you I love you too?”

He pulled her down, brushing his lips against hers and looked straight at where he knew Ra’s sat, feeling triumphant, and walked out of the room with their hands linked. They always were better together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me on  
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>  TWITTER : _@dorky06_


	13. Encore With Al Sah-Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this prompt came from here, and it was my own in a roundabout way but whatever. I need to exorcise Olicity sex from my brain and exploring smutty alter ego of Oliver was too good to resist. This is slightly rough. You have been warned. :)

 

The rain was pounding down on the concrete as Felicity slowly made her way across the street in the middle of the moonless night, towards the store round the corner for a pint of ice-cream. It seemed like that was all she survived on these days. Her heart, since returning from Nanda Parbat half a dozen weeks ago,was both heavy and hopeful. Heavy because how did you leave the man you loved and the man who had made you see stars over and over again and the man you knew was doomed so you tried to drug him out of a secret tunnel by joining hands with Viper Merlyn but still failing and leaving with nothing but a goodbye kiss?

Hopeful because duh. The man was as subtle as a freight train and he had dropped really ridiculous hints that he would be back and not to give up hope which she wasn’t but it was hard. Hence her staple diet of ice-cream and memories of that one night on satin sheets that left her panting at night. Boy, he owed her a  _lot_  of orgasms when he came back. He would be lucky if she let him even walk after she was done and since he was a woman, and hello, blessed with multiple orgasms that he knew exactly how to give, yup. No walking for him.

But she walked on for now, lost in her fantasies, getting drenched but not really caring, the cooling drops feeling good on her over-heated skin. She was just walking past an alley when a gloved hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed her, pulling her into the darkness of the street. She started to yell but the hand muffled her mouth. Channeling her inner Sandra Bullock, she tried the SING move but the man was  _gargantuan_  and did not even let her move.

But it was when her front was pressed into the wall that fear truly struck her. And the way the man pressed himself against her back made it very clear that his  _little man_  was not so little anymore. She had to get away. For herself. For Oliver. With renewed strength, she twisted and turned and struggled but the man kept her pinned, letting her tire out.

Heart thumping and sinking down to her knees, she was about to sob out when she felt his lips graze the hollow just between her ear and her neck, the hollow that she had hated when she was a kid, the hollow that was her supernova spot, the hollow that only one man knew was her turn on button, and she froze. It was the hollow that not one of her few lovers, creepy as the word was, had ever discovered. None except Oliver. And he had spent more than half the night going back and forth between her lips and that spot, his stubble grazing it just the right way, his tongue flicking over it in a way she didn’t even know was possible.

She felt the same flick of tongue on her wet, slippery skin, at the exact same spot, and she felt her body relax, and get aroused. The fact that he had gone for that spot first told her it was him. He knew her body like a maestro. He kept softly licking at the spot, and a mewl escaped her before she could notice it, his hand leaving her mouth. The rain was pelting down on them and she slippery feel on her skin just inflamed her more, her eyes drifting down to his hands. They were covered in black leather. Slowly turning her head around, she took him in and her heart stuttered.

He was in the League’s black, his big, broad body even broader and even more imposing in their clothes, his face covered in some black fabric that only left his brilliant blue eyes visible, blue steely eyes that just gazed back at her, so unlike that night when they had been submerged in love and heat. Oh, there was heat even now, and love too on the fringes, but there was something else in his eyes that made her heart race, something so primitive and bestial and animalistic that it made her gut clench.

She put up her hand to draw his mask down, to expose his face, but as soon as she raised it, he pressed himself into her ass, pressing her into the wall and bit down on her neck, his mask somehow not stopping his mouth to be naked on her skin. She yelped at the harsh bite of his teeth and he soothed the spot with his tongue, thrusting over her hips over the layers of drenched clothes.

She pushed back against him, aroused despite herself, her nipples hardening into buds with the heat and the cold. Moaning, she felt him remove a glove with his teeth, his other hand holding her down, making her writhe against the rough wall. She had thought that given the last time, maybe he would tease and taste and explore a little before going into the let’s-make-felicity-an-inferno-territory. She was wrong.

Before she could blink, his hand was under her skirt, she heard the rip in her panties and felt him invade her core with two fingers, knuckle deep before she could even realize what was happening, and she cried out sharply at the invasion. She was already so so wet for him, her body weeping for the release only he would give her. He added a third finger and pumped them furiously in and out of her, while she clutched at the wall, her entire body shivering with the crescendo that was building over and over and over again.

Suddenly, as soon as he had thrust in, he pulled his fingers out, turning her chin with one hand and making her watch as he licked each digit clean of her juices, his mask on the ground with her torn panties. Her throat dried, watching as he savored her taste, keeping their eyes together, cleaning his fingers thoroughly of any residue, and swooped down, penetrating her mouth with his tongue without warning. There were no teasing, peppery kisses this time. This time, he was going all for it, making her taste herself on his pillaging, forceful tongue, thrusting into her mouth repeatedly, battling with her tongue for dominance.

His hands came in front of her blouse and he ripped the buttons off with grip, in a gesture that inflamed her senses to complete ecstasy. Boy he was hot, and very un-Oliver-y, but he was still Oliver and she knew he would never hurt her. So when his hands pulled down her bra cups and covered the skin, rolling the engorged nipples in his fingers roughly, she arched into him, pushing her hips back into erection.

Suddenly, like he was doing everything tonight, he pushed up her skirt to her waist, exposing her completely to his eyes in the dark side street, and hiked one leg up with his hand under her knee, spreading her wide and almost naked against the wall. A few seconds passed, his eyes roving her exposed flesh, and then he was against her wet heat, coating himself in her juices, the rain water still pouring down on them.

And then, he thrust up into her, burying himself to the hilt in one motion while biting hard on her hollow spot, eliciting a loud cry from her. Her bare breasts rubbed against the arm he had wrapped around them to protect it from scraping on the wall, but the friction of her wet skin against his wet, rough forearms was so delicious that she groaned. He pulled completely out of her before she had even adjusted to having his huge girth inside her, and thrust in again, biting that hollow spot again, rubbing his arm across her nipples again. The combined sensation was too heady for her body, and her knees weakened, crumbling, unable to support her anymore.

And then, like he had just hiked her up and flipped her over that night with brute strength, he took a step from the wall, making her back lean completely into him, supporting her entire weight by the arm against her breast and on her hiked leg, keeping her exposed to him. It was so hot that she felt another gush of wetness engulf her insides, and feeling it perhaps, he pulled back and thrust in faster than earlier, but not stopping this time, drilling her hole with his erection, pounding and biting and sucking and nibbling and she was losing it, feeling the arousal coil tighter and tighter inside her, getting ready for an explosion she knew would have her scream.

“Oliver,” she panted and he froze, making her heart scream in frustration. She had been so close. She tried to move but he held her still, slowly muttering against her ear in his low voice, the one she had missed so, so terribly.

“Say my name.”

She blinked the rain out. “Oliver.”

He tightened his arms around her and growled. “No. Say my name.”

She turned her head to look at him. “I am. Oliver!”

“ _I am not him._  Say my name.”

And she got it. All of a sudden it became so unbelievably clear and she wanted to smack his face. Her anger spiked and she enunciated deliberately. _“OLIVER!”_

A primal sound escaped his throat and he pulled out of her, leaving her wet and weeping for his possession. But he was not done. He turned her around and pinned her against the wall, pulling her hips forward so that only her shoulders rested on the wall, pulling up her body with only his arms under her knees, the position automatically spreading her wider that she had ever been, and he slid in again. Her eyes fluttered close.

He thrust hard, so hard her mind blanked for a second, letting her walls feel him to the hilt. “Say my  _name!_ ”

She grit her teeth that had started chattering a little for some reason. “Are you trying to seek your identity in my vagina?” she challenged.

With a loud roar, he doubled his pace, a feat she had not thought possible, and pistoned his pelvis right into hers, hitting her g-spot almost every time, her clit rubbing against his hard muscle on each thrust, every twist and rotation of his hips in that mad, frantic pace setting her on fire like never before.

Her orgasm hit her hard, out of the blue, and she screamed out his name over and over again, shaking her head frantically, her body shaking and shivering but her climax just went on and on and he just kept on pounding harder and faster and more erratic. Her naked breasts heaved and her hands clutched to his black uniform that he was still wearing, ravishing her, fucking her like a wild animal. She had not seen this side of him and she had to admit it turned her on.

He swooped down back to that hollow spot below her ear and bit it hard, making her pant again. She could feel another explosion coming and she was not going to survive this.

“Oliver,” she panted. He kept moving in and out of her, shaking his head, his roughness telling her she would be sore and achy tomorrow. She closed her eyes.

“Oliver. Oliver. Oliver. Oliver,” she kept chanting, just as another wave washed over her, white spots dancing behind her eyelids as she clung to him, keeping him as the anchor that would hold her to the ground.

With another roar, he exploded inside her, filling her like he had once before, gripping her thighs so hard she knew he would leave a mark. Tomorrow when she would look at herself in the mirror, the evidence of her ravishment would be branded all over her skin.

Slowly regaining his control, he slipped out of her, righting his clothes and putting up his mask that fit his face well, again, as she tried to right her own self under his cool gaze.

“So is this a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am thing?” she asked, nervously waiting for his answer. She knew Oliver loved her more than anything else but the man before her did not believe himself to be Oliver. So what of that love he had for her?

He stepped back and for the first time, she saw him completely in his new attire, so dark and dead against him. He was better than that dull ache of a color. He did not answer, but took another step back, before vanishing into the shadows, leaving her standing there in the rain, questioning her own sanity.

But the proof of his being was etched all upon her. The proof of his existence breathed in her red skin. Al Sah-Him may have merged with the night he had embraced but it was Oliver who had sought her out and ravished her.

And her Oliver was a creature of habit.

She smiled and walked back to her apartment, her heart lighter than it had been for a very long time.

He would be back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : _supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com_  
>  TWITTER : _@dorky06_


	14. Al Sah-Him To Kill Felicity Smoak- Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked : I LOVE your Al Sahim fics. They KILL me and I wan’t to die more. So, can you write one where he kills Felicity?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why would you do this to me, Anon? But, alas. Here it is. Be prepared. There are FEELS. And Felicity refused to die. Here.

The woman before him was gagged, her dress dirty and her knees scuffed, her hands tied behind her back. The firelight illuminated her skin and cast the sheen in her wide eyes behind the glasses to glow brighter than he was comfortable with.

He did not know who she was. He did not even know who he was. Everything bar yesterday was a blank to him. He was a shell. An empty shell. 

“She is a threat to you, Al Sah-Him. End her. I shall wait outside.”

The voice of the man who had trained him came from beside him as he walked out, leaving him alone in the room with the woman. He did not understand how she was a threat. She was too small, and the fact that she was captured by them clearly meant she was no match. But it did not matter. 

He was a killer. That was all he knew. He was an assassin. An heir. And she was a threat. 

He put a hand behind him and drew an arrow, notching it on his bow, steady and cold, like his inside. He pointed it at her heart, which must have been beating rapidly beneath her heaving chest but her eyes remained steady on his, her swollen, red, teary eyes. 

He pulled back the arrow. Her eyes closed for a second, a torrent of tears leaking, trailing down her cheeks, before she opened them again and just gazed back at him, that gaze holding no fear, no anger, just forgiveness. 

And that gave him pause. 

Why would his enemy forgive him when he was about to embed an arrow deep into her? He looked at her face again, considering her with new eyes. She glowed. There was no other word for it. Despite of the sweat and the dirt and the tears, she glowed, sitting on her knees on hard stone ground, waiting bravely. 

His eyes drifted to her hair. Sun spun hair. An ache pierced his skull suddenly, making him blink to clear away the image. The image of the same sun spun hair on red satin sheets, his hand trailing through them.

He shook his head and looked back at her eyes and another image assaulted him. Looking at those blue eyes on a beach, the sun shining bright over them.

Who was she? 

“Have you finished, Al Sah-Him?”

His mentor’s voice reminded him of the task at hand. Her death. Inhaling deeply, he suddenly knew that he knew nothing, and that was dangerous. This woman was more than a threat. And she would not die till he knew exactly who she was. 

Decision made, he pulled back on the bow, watched her eyes widen at the determination on his face, and let the arrow pierce her shoulder. Her muffled scream echoed through the empty chamber, the pain in her eyes pulling on something long forgotten inside him. He slowly watched deep red soak her skin, her eyes glazing over, holding onto his gaze for as long as it could and that tenacity made his heart clench. Her eyes closed.  

He picked her up, a part of him telling him this was not the first time, her weight somehow familiar, and walked out. Let his mentor think he was going to bury the body. 

No. He was going to take her to his chamber.

And he was going to understand why her eyes had made him falter when nothing else could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me
> 
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> TWITTER : @dorky06


	15. A Conversation Between Two Assassins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some crazy idea of a conversation between Maseo and another assassin.

The man with the scars on his face, still in his black costume, pressed upon the wound on his arm, his eyes moving stealthily to Master's second-in-command as he stood opposite him in the corridor. The man had questions and he wanted answers, being high in the rank of the League himself.

"Sarab," he spoke, addressing the second-in-command with a nod. 

The other man nodded back. "Shebah."

The scarred man, Shebah, tied the cloth around his arm. "I have an inquiry, Sarab, if I may."

Sarab gave a curt nod to proceed. He did. "Why did you not search the woman tonight?"

He saw Sarab's face remain dead like they all had been trained to be, his voice still neutral. "Because it was not Al Sah-Him's wish."

The man shook his head, not understanding the new heir or his obsession with the woman who had been a visitor three weeks prior. He spoke softly. "Men were injured and lost for his wish. It could all have been prevented."

Sarab pursed his mouth. "We serve the Demon's Head and his Heir with our lives, Shebah. Do no forget."

He took a step towards Sarab, his mentor, his trainer, whom he respected the most of most men. "Yes. That woman dared to defy the Demon's Head the last time she was here, before his servants. Tonight she proved a mightier threat than we counted upon. Clearly, Al Sah-Him has not let go of his previous bonds with her for his judgement is clouded."

Sarab lowered his voice and spoke softly. "We still serve him."

The man tamped down a wave of frustration that was foreign to him. He had been bested by that bespectacled woman the last time, a small woman with no training and a spear had made him taste dirt when she had hit him on the head. That same woman was responsible for two of his fellows taking their last breaths tonight. She was a Trojan horse. And she would invade this fortress. Did they not see that?

He spoke softly, looking at Sarab. "That woman is more than what she seems. And Al Sah-Him's preoccupation with her is a matter of grave danger for the League. The Demon's Head perhaps is not aware. We were there, Sarab. We saw it. That woman..."

"Is none of the League's business."

The booming, commanding voice came from the door. The man looked up in surprise to see Al Sah-Him striding forward with silent steps, his entire body commanding everything around him. The man's head bowed of it's own accord.

"Al Sah-Him," he spoke softly, courteously, a sliver of fear snaking in his veins.

"Look up," Al Sah-Him ordered. He did, expecting to find his icy cold stare. What he found instead was burning blue.

Al Sah-Him opened his mouth, his words soft but steel. "That woman is not to be touched. That woman is not to be thought of. Tell all you have to. Anybody go near a hair on her head, they will face my wrath. Am I understood?"

The man nodded, his heart grave with trepidation. Al Sah-Him nodded back before looking at Sarab and walking out swiftly with him following.

The man stood with his hand pressed to the wound that woman had caused, the woman he was not to think of, the woman Al Sah-Him had commanded not be touched, and he knew without a shadow of doubt that Al Sah-Him had not let go yet, and what had happened tonight at the warehouse was only the beginning.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me
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	16. Ten Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, [redmoonchick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmoonchick/) prompted this one on Tumblr. Basically what is going through Al Sah-Him/Oliver’s head when he stands at the end of the aisle to be wed. He is super confused and hallucinating. I sort of changed a teeny weeny bit, Lana. Hope it still is okay. :)

She stood beyond a gateway of swords, beautiful in the heavy, deep green gown. The green that used to be his once. 

She stood ten steps away from where he stood waiting, something in his mind telling him there was something wrong with this picture. Ra's had told him about herbs. Maybe this feeling was just a late after-effect. What could be wrong when he could see her clear blue eyes, shining from even behind the gauzy veil, as she started to glide almost to him?

The swords stood at alert, the fire light flickering in a way that reminded him of red satin sheets and sweat slicked bodies. But something was not right with this picture.

One step. 

Maybe it was the green. He had always envisioned this in white, her in white, in some garden filled with bright sunlight, still fading to her own brightness. But the green worked too. It was his own after all. Something was still wrong.

Two.

He blinked, the vision blurring but coming back into focus. Ra's stood beside him, smiling softly. That smile gave him pause. Why would Ra's smile for her?

Three.

His heart hardened. He was a warrior now, the cold kind. He was a killer now. He was not the hero anymore, and there was nothing left for her to believe in. Why was she still coming to him?

Four.

It was all moving too slow. It was all moving too fast. His head spun but he stood still, anchoring himself to only the blue eyes. Something was wrong. 

Five.

A drop of sweat rolled down his back, making a small shiver accost him, a shiver only he knew of. He looked at the blue eyes but suddenly he could not see her face, did not know whose face to look for, only the eyes, and a small wave of panic engulfed him. Who was she?

Six.

He calmed down. She was coming to him. That was all that mattered. Yet, something was wrong.

Seven. 

The swords behind her swung down with a soft whoosh, cutting air. His mind suddenly spun back to the man he had cut through the air a few nights ago, his dark skin gleaming on the sand. Who had he been? What had he been saying before? He could not remember. He cleared his head for the blue.

Eight.

He could not find the blue. The eyes were dark, her face unclear. But he could not find the blue and he knew, even when he knew nothing, that something was very very wrong.

Nine.

His eyes moved over her face, and stuck to the dark hair. No. The red sheets had held gold, sun spun hair. Fingers had sifted through gold, sun spun hair. A sudden picture of the gold, sun spun hair swishing in a ponytail hit him and an ache pierced his skull apart. He barely contained the flinch on his face, remembering the herbs. His eyes swung to Ra's.

Ten.

It wasn't she. It wasn't she. It wasn't she. He looked at the familiar green and rage burned through him, memories flooding him. Memories of the green he wore, of the green he had ached to see her in, marked by him in a way only they would know. Memories of lush pink mouths and giggles and smiles. Memories of touches and shoulders and hugs. Memories of twining on the sheets, skin on skin, the fire burning through them. Memories that had been confused in him. Memories that Ra's thought he had taken but had only put to sleep.

She had woken them again. 

He turned towards the priestess, looking one last time at the woman beside him. It wasn't she. And this was not right.

But now that his mind was clear, he knew the plan. He knew this would stop. He knew he wouldn't have to go through with this.

And when he was done, when he was back with her, and when they would have their day, she wouldn't be in green, or white.

She would be red.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me
> 
> TUMBLR : [supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com](http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/)  
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	17. Al Sah-Him To Kill Felicity Smoak- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART 1 is where Oliver is supposed to kill Felicity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame this all on you readers for demanding a sequel. And lumenka since you bugged me and bribed me. You crazy girl, I love you so much! Here it goes, continuation from when he picks her up.

She was losing more blood than he had thought. Her head was lolling in a manner that was making him quicken his pace, the odd white sheen to her skin feeling wrong in his bones. 

This woman, whoever she was, had to live. She had to live. That was fundamental and he didn’t know why it was so.

He walked quickly towards his chambers, the lighting low in the corridor. 

“The burial ground is that way, Al Sah-him.” 

The voice stopped him and he turned slowly to see a warrior come forth. He didn’t know his name. And he sure did not want him to find out she was not dead.

The man stopped. “She breathes yet. This will not do.”

The man turned to leave and before he knew it, he was removing his sword with one hand and embedding it deep into the man’s stomach, enough for him to lose blood but not die. He did not care either way. Something told him this was not the first time he had killed, almost, protecting her.

Making his way back, without interruptions this time, he locked the door to his chamber and lay her down on the bed. She did not even shift in pain when the arrow moved over her shoulder, and that sent a frisson of fear, an emotion he was not used to feeling, down his veins. 

He took out his dagger and cut the arrow as quickly and cleanly as he could, pulling it out from the other side, and pressed the rag against the blood that spurted from the wound. She did not even flinch.

Truly scared now, and not understanding why, he wrapped the wound and gave her the healing herbs, watching the red seep through the rag, and he immediately changed the cloth. Once his work was done, he sat down beside her, and looked at his hands, stained with her blood. The image felt wrong, like something that was never supposed to happen.

He turned his eyes to her face, her mouth burned raw from rubbing against her gag, her eyes swollen shut, her skin a ghostly pale, her hair matted and lusterless. This felt wrong too. He knew this woman was color. This woman was beautiful, even now.

With hesitation, he raised a tentative hand, and traced the burn marks, wishing he could soothe the pain with his touch. But his hands were not healers. They were killers. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from having the luxury of her soft skin.

A small groan left her mouth, a murmur, hearing her soft voice for the first time. “Oliver.”

He stilled. Oliver. A lover, no doubt. A woman with her brightness obviously would command one. Lucky man. And oddly, his stomach turned, thinking of this faceless man for whom she called in her oblivion. Who was this woman to him?

“Oliver,” she murmured again. His gut burned thinking of that man who had the pleasure of having her. Was that man worried about her now? Did that man know how devoted she was to him? Did that man enjoy her soft skin or did he steal that pleasure like like a thief as he was right now?

Who was she? He had no name for her. He could not think of ever knowing her. No memories. Just an instinct. An instinct which made him caress her cheek like he could not caress anything anymore, his rough fingers out of place with her untarnished skin. But he head tarnished it. 

Her eyelids fluttered, opening and her clear blue eyes found his, blinking a few tears away, her hand coming up to touch his wrist, a tremulous smile on her lips. 

And with sudden clarity he knew. He didn’t remember, but he knew. 

He was that man. 

He was that lover. 

He was that thief. 

Her was her Oliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me at
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	18. ‘I’ll Be Watching You’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically the Felicity-Thea 3x21 scene in the loft. Outside shot. And Felicity breaking down. Someone watching them. Three guesses who? This ran away from me. Inspired by [THIS](http://thebelovedsaralance.tumblr.com/post/117851250505/3x20-were-missing-something/)

The wind roared around him at the height, but he stood, unmoving, unafraid, eyes glued to the window of the building opposite him, glued to the two women talking, unaware, that he could pull back his bow and end them in their next breath.

For some unknown reason, this made him angry, that they would be so unaware of their surrounding, so vulnerable to any predator of the shadows, like he. His eyes moved over the dark haired girl, holding herself still in front of the glass, the same girl who had put an arrow through his arm and threatened him. She looked frail now, like a wind would knock her over. This made him angrier. And he did not understand why.

His shrewd gaze moved to the other woman as she came forward, handing the younger girl a piece of paper, her hands wiping her tears. This woman, with her golden hair and her fiery spirit. This woman that he had not been able to defy, whose eyes had drawn him like magnets, who had been the Trojan Horse tonight and for some reason, it amused him more than angered him. He did not understand it. He did not understand why he had been unable to let Sarab search her, or why her blue gaze had threatened his control. 

He looked at the women, sharing grief together, and he did not understand why he had followed them and why he stood, just watching them on a rooftop. He had to return. 

Almost turning to leave, he saw the golden woman exit through the door, as the dark haired girl smiled at the piece of paper, and a sudden urge to see what was written on it threatened him. He fisted his hands and looked down at the woman exiting the building, slowly walking down the street, her head bowed and shoulders shaking as she cried.

Unable to understand his instincts, he followed her slowly, warring with anger at her unawareness, at her vulnerability out in the open and a need to comfort her. After a few moments, he saw her enter a secluded building and he frowned, not understanding why she would do so at this time of the night, all alone.

She went down the stairs to a basement, slowly looking around her, at the destroyed room, and sunk in a chair, sobs tearing out of her chest, wracking her small frame. Those sobs tore at something inside him, those heaves clawing at his guts, the way her brightness dimmed tearing at him. He stood quietly in the shadows, watching the woman destroy herself, tearing apart at the seams, unable to understand his draw to her. 

The confusion angered him too, and with a last look at her devastated face, he left the shadows and entered the night, going back to his duties, back to hot, dry mountains and blood and sweat, the image of a frail dark haired girl stuck in his brain, the image of a devastated woman with golden hair, her anguished cries echoing his heart, haunting him, as he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me on
> 
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	19. In An Alcove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for the wonderful taurusclh. Carr, you wonderful woman, you asked so obviously I had to do it. Plus after the angsty on yesterday, this had to be done. I just hope this fits your head canon thingy ;)
> 
> Based on this :

 

 

This was like a really, really bad case of deja-vu. She stood in the same hall she had challenged Ra’s a few weeks ago, in front of Ra’s as he looked at her in an amusement that made her blood boil, and Oliver, who stood stone-faced, stoic, his glance not even flicking to her.

“He is no more Oliver Queen, child,” Mr. Rag said in that weird accent that gave her the creeps. “He is Al Sah-Him.”

Al Sah-Him, her ass. She looked at him , clad in black League uniform, his head completely shaven, his eyes blank, cold and unseeing, and a frission of unease went through her. No. She had to believe. She had not come this far for nothing.

Everyone else who had come with her was downstairs, captured and chained in the dungeons. The only reason she was not there with them was because apparently Mr. Rag had some sort of honor and he felt he owed it to the beloved of the departed Mr. Queen to inform her first hand and demonstrate the dummy he had created in the flesh of the man she loved. Like any demonstration would change her mind. 

She narrowed her eyes and Mr. Rag smiled. “I see you remain skeptical. Very well. It is your truth to accept.”

He turned to Oliver, who did not respond to Oliver anymore, and spoke. “Take her down to the others. Chain her as well. We will see to them afterwards.”

Oliver (she would not ever call him anything else) gave a curt nod and strode out of the room with long steps, leaving her to follow hastily after him without giving Mr. Rag the middle finger. Oh she  _so_  wanted to. 

He turned right in a low-lit corridor, empty, that she knew led towards the dungeons. Looking around, to check if they were truly alone, she finally said loudly. “Oliver. You need to stop behaving like an idiot and get your head out of your ass.”

He didn’t pause, didn’t falter, didn’t even  _acknowledge_  that he had heard her. A sliver of fear wormed its way in. What if Mr. Rag had actually brainwashed him? What if Oliver was gone? 

No. She shook her head, trying again. “Whatever case of split personality you have got going, it needs to stop.”

No response. Her heart thumped harder. 

“Oliver. I know you are there. I know that you know that. I believe in you. I always have.”

Nothing. And now she was truly panicking. This man was did not even hint that he knew her, her words falling on deaf ears. Moisture gathered in her eyes as a sharp pain shot through her heart.

He turned left, the corridor getting darker, the stone walls almost closing upon her as she jogged to catch up with him. She took the turn and stopped in her tracks. He was gone.

Puzzled, confused, and slightly scared, her heard beating a wild stacco in her chest, she looked around in the barely lit corridor, trying to find him.

“Oliver?” she whispered, her eyes scanning the area, standing completely lost in the huge fortress. 

Suddenly, a hand pulled on her waist while another clamped on her mouth, muffling her shriek as she was pressed into the wall, almost having an aneurysm. Eyes wide, she looked up at his blue, blue eyes,  _his_  blue eyes, before he removed his hand and swooped down, latching their mouths together.

A surprised gasp escaped her and he used that to plunge his tongue in, tasting her thoroughly, like he had somehow been deprived. Her surprise faded away, her happiness at finding him again so monumental that she pushed herself into him, her hands digging into the back of his neck, pulling him as close as she could. They collided together, again and again and god, she had missed him so much!

She pulled back to catch her breath and looked at his shadowed face, searching his eyes. Slowly, keeping his eyes on hers, he shifted her to the right and pushed her into an alcove, completely bathed in darkness, shrouding them both in its cover. His hands, wordlessly, moved to unsnap her jeans and she cursed herself for not wearing a skirt. 

“What if someone finds us?” she whispered softly, able to see nothing except his eyes. 

He leaned down, biting on her earlobe, tugging it, sending a wave of heat through her veins right to her core. “No one will.”

Trusting him, like she always did, she quickly removed her shoes and peeled off her jeans, knowing that now was not the time of foreplay, not the time of exploration. Nope. Now was the time to reassure, to re-ascertain, to be. Now was the time to just be.

His hands curved over her ass, hiking her body up sharply as he pushed her into the alcove wall, pushing her panties aside and checking her with his long fingers. A moan almost escaped her but he caught it with his mouth, nibbling on her lips while pumping two fingers inside her. Her hips thrust at him, spine curving to get as close to him as possible and his mouth moved from her mouth to her neck.

“Oliver, now. Please. I need you inside me,” she murmured as softly as she could, considering she was almost panting now. He closed his eyes for a second before his hands spread her thigh further apart, hooking under her knees, spreading her wide open. He had opened his own bizarre costume sometime, so he was lined up right along her wet folds. He stopped there and looked at her, for seconds just looked at her, before plunging in completely in one go, locking his mouth with her and swallowing her loud moan. 

He pulled out completely before thrusting in again, the sharp pressure pushing her into her wall and making her claw at his shoulders. He pulled out completely and entered sharply again, the hit resonating deep inside her, her walls already fluttering around him. He was the man she loved more than anything else, and right now, there was no place on earth she would be but in a fortress of doom getting herself banged by him. 

Picking up speed, like he did when he hit those dummies, he moved so fast that it almost became a blur, in and out and in and out and in and out of her, his hips pumping into hers manically, like he was chasing his demons away, like he was proving to himself that this was real, the sounds of their flesh slapping louder than it should be but he didn’t seem to care, mating his mouth with hers in sync with his hips, plunging his cock and his tongue inside her at the same time, over and over and over again till her walls were quivering around him, her body shaking in his arms and he continues to thrust and piston and rotate his pelvis to hers. 

The heat that had been building up in her reached an inferno and she suddenly exploded  _hard_ , biting his shoulder to keep from screaming, her walls clamping on his cock so hard that he thrust in a few more times erratically before he exploded too, biting her neck to muffle his sounds, flooding her as her walls trembled around him, her arms and legs completely wrapped, pulling him into her body. 

She knew he would have stayed there, right inside her like he had that night every time they had made love, but now was not the time. And even though the last thing she wanted to do was let go, she disentangled herself from him, pulling her jeans and shoes back up while he tucked himself. 

Finally dressed, she looked up at him and her toes curled, a smile lifting her mouth, and though he didn’t smile, his eyes told her he was as happy as she was in this moment. 

His hand raised and he brushed her hair back, touching his mouth to hers once more, chastely, murmuring, “ _God, I’ve missed you._ ”   

She kissed him back, softly, before pulling away. “Please tell me you have a brilliant plan.”

This time his mouth curled, remembering the same words from ages ago. “I have a brilliant plan.”

She nodded, relieved, trusting him, knowing now everything else was a ruse. They started down the corridor again, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. They reached the dungeon and she saw him shift into the his other mode, as he ignored the hard looks being sent his way and chained her to the floor, leaning over her as though checking the chains. 

His breath ghosted over her ear, his words only for her and so soft no one could have heard. “I love you.”

She barely contained her smile, her love for her hero overwhelming as he walked out, knowing that he would once again, as always, save the day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say Hi to me on
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	20. Gone - (3x22 Aftermath)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous said : Could you write a scene after 3x22 where Oliver comes to the dungeon and sees them unconscious? He knows it’s planned but still he is so pained. I need this! You are awesome!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope this was what you thought that scene to be like. Here goes nothing.

He slowly slithered in the corridor, careful not to make his presence known in any way to anyone who happened to come by. Walking with quick, quiet steps, he reached the end of the the darkened path, and stopped, his heart pounding, his hands shaking in a way they never had before. 

With those shaking hands, he pulled on the lever in the wall, and waited with his heart in his throat as the opaque panel rolled up slower than he would have liked, revealing the five unconscious bodies inside. 

Opening the door with his trembling hands, he rushed inside, his legs leaden, and stopped, just taking them in, running his eyes over everyone, coming to a stop at her. 

Her head lolled to the side in a way he had only seen in his nightmares, and despite of knowing it was temporary, he knew this image would be scarred on his subconscious for as long as he would live. Her mouth was slightly open like she was merely dreaming, her eyes closed in a way that was constricting his lungs. He prayed that she would forgive him for this. He prayed to a god he did not believe in anymore that they all would. His brother. His friends. Even his enemy. 

With stuttering breath, unable to help himself, he kneeled beside her, his hand automatically caressing her neck, feeling the icy skin beneath his fingers, as he searched for a pulse. He could not find any and his blood ran cold, his eyes swiveling to Malcolm. He had trusted that man to deliver them to safety. But was it possible he had deceived them like always? Could it be possible that it was all for nothing? Could it be possible that he had truly lost them forever? That she was gone?

His mouth trembling, he looked back down at her pale face, her skin so colorless, so unresponsive, so unlike her. 

“No, no, no, no,” he started muttering without even knowing he was, his hand seeking her chest, pressing it over her heart, over his own heart, willing it to beat back life into both of them. 

_“No, no, no,”_  he chanted, tears escaping his eyes, dripping onto her cheeks. He pressed his lips to her cold ones, willing to breathe back life into her. Anything. She was supposed to be awake by now. They all were. And they were not. 

_“Please, Felicity,”_  he whispered, everything inside him destroyed. He would be nothing but ruins if she was gone. He would be nothing. 

He was sobbing, holding her to him, everything slowly becoming bleak as he just rocked her body softly, the body he had worshiped, the body that had been his temple, the body of the woman he loved. Gone. 

“ _Come back to me,_ ” his voice broke on his whisper. What was the point for anything anymore?

He heard a soft noise come from outside, and stood on alert, seeing Tatsu stand on the door, waiting for him to execute his plan. He looked down at the woman in his arms, brushing her hair away from her cold face with shaking fingers and closed his eyes. 

For her. He had to do this for her. He was already dead, but his death would not be complete till he honored her belief in him.

Getting up, he looked at his brother, a deep pang of regret going through his chest, and looked at his friends. At Malcolm. Shaking his head on the cold rage he could feel inside him, he walked out, numb to anything but that, focusing on that, or he would perish right there with her. He would go lie right beside her till the last breath left his body. 

He shut the iron gates, the tears still going down, his chest burning with the need to scream in the agony burning his bones to dust, when he heard it. A cough.

His wide eyes locked on her small frame, waiting, his heart relying on that one soft sound for survival. It didn’t come and he wondered if he was going mad with grief, just when her body shook and she coughed again, gulping in air to her deprived lungs.

He took his first gulp of air with her, tremors wracking his frame, relief almost knocking him to his knees. She raised her hand to her face, feeling the tears he had shed on her skin, still struggling with her breathing and he turned to Tatsu, walking out with her, knowing he had to put an end to this.

Now he could. 

_She_  was alive.  _He_  was alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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